


Safety Net

by Lina_Love



Series: Eddsworld Bullshit [9]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Dom/sub, Forced Orgasm, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Safeword Use, Sex Toys, Sexy Times, Subdrop, Tom's in love and he's fucked, Tord crying, Tord is fucking insane, Vibrators, tord knows what he's doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25869358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lina_Love/pseuds/Lina_Love
Summary: tord isn't supposed to touch himself , he does ,.toms not amused , enough said y'knowsome feely shit thrown in
Relationships: Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Series: Eddsworld Bullshit [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796059
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	Safety Net

**Author's Note:**

> one rule ; do not cum without permission or you're in trouble
> 
> tord ; miss me with that shit homie 😎😎😎
> 
> in conclusion , this gets weirdly feely with some touch of tord being absolutely fucking insane and a ticking time bomb

Ｓａｆｅｔｙ Ｎｅｔ ；  
ＴｏｍＴｏｒｄ

( Punishment , Toys , Safewords , Subdrop )

He had fucked up.

Tord knew the moment that he saw the look on Tom's face turn from a normal stoicness to stern and authoritative that he had fucked up beyond belief.

The look on his face was one Tord had come to recognize as his Dom face.

Demanding and expectant of Tord's behavior to follow.

There was a small set of rules Tom had put into place for Tord as the two of them became more serious about their roles behind closed doors.

The most important one that lingered during controlled scenes in their daily lives was that Tord wasn't allowed to touch himself during these extended periods of time.

Seeing as this week was the first of trying out longer and more in depth play sessions, there was a lot of room for error when self control was restrained on Tord's end of things.

The hardest part about it all was just how high Tord knew his sex drive was.

His mind constantly fell back to odd pornography he found pleasure in, Japanese animations and unrealistic cartoon girls in even more unrealistic situations.

And Tom, the absolute sadistic bastard he was, hadn't given Tord much relief.

No relief at all. 

The days were spent in respective bedrooms, each one a bit different.

Sometimes he spent hours on his knees, mouth open and pliant as he worked as a cock warmer. Those times were some of his favorites, gentle and easy, falling into a fuzzy state of mind while Tom watched television or strummed away at his bass.

It was bliss compared to when Tom teased him, brought him to the edge, then staved off his orgasm. Sometimes he'd do it several times, over and over, and only stopped when he was in desperate tears.

Then he'd help coddle him down and return to the rest of the day.

Desperation had finally caused him to break against the simple rule, settled in his bedroom comfortably, a hentai playing on his computer to set his mind into sex mode.

His pants were unzipped, cock pulled from the confines of his boxers, hand working over his shaft with unashamed abandon.

Eyelids fluttered, and each breath came out more ragged than the next. Soft moans fell from parted lips, but apparently they were loud enough to draw Tom's attention.

His door clicked open right as the tightening heat in his stomach boiled over, orgasm washing over him embarrassingly quickly.

When he had looked back up, when his grey eyes met Tom's dark black, his stomach sank.

Any post orgasm bliss was shoved away when his door was slammed shut by the drunk, his lock clicking into place to keep out their roommates.

"Tom, I can explain--"

The Norwegain received an unimpressed scoff in response to his words.

"There's nothing to explain. On the bed. Now. Don't make me wait, or this is going to be a lot harder one you.'

There was a moment of hesitance, contemplative, but any thought was quickly thrown away when a loud, sharp snap echoed through the room as Tom pointed to his bed.

Uneasy silver hues took in Tom's demeanor as he slowly made his way from his desk to his bed, movements akin to those of a kicked puppy.

"I really didn't mean to, it just sort of happened."

"No excuses. Lay on your back, head on your pillows. Legs spread, arms up."

Tord's heart began to race in his chest as he thought over the possibilities such a compromising position could entail, but he knew if he continued to stall, things would only be worse for him.

So the Norwegain sucked in a breath before laying back on his bed, making sure he was in a comfortable position. His legs spread, and his arms fell to rest, folded over each other over his head, resting comfortably against his pillow.

"What are you going to do..?"

Tom didn't respond, much to Tord's dismay. He simply crossed the room to the foreigner's bed, sliding down his pants and boxers in one swift motion.

Tord watched as pale fingers pulled his belt from his now discadred pants. He continued to observe in silence as Tom hooked the leather around his wrists, tying his hands together and rendering them immobile.

Tom took a moment to look over Tord, and despite the fact that Tord's dick was already starting to fill out again, a trickle of doubt passed through the Brit's mind.

"Is this okay with you?"

The shift in his voice was a tad jarring, from dominant to soft, but Tord didn't allow the stark change to cause him to miss a beat.

"This is okay."

"And our word?"

"Rainbow."

"Perfect. Good boy."

And just like that, Tom was back to his original demeanor.

A small, blue plug was produced from the Brit's pocket, and he waved it tauntingly down at the Norwegian.

"I was going to show this to you. We've never used a vibrator before. I was even thinking about letting you cum, but I didn't realize how much you needed this. Clearly, all you want to do is cum, cum, and cum.

You can't even put off an orgasm for a week.

So, if you want it so bad, I'll let you have it."

The words made Tord's mind settle on confusion out of every emotion he was feeling in the moment.

He assumed a punishment would be coming his way, but as Tom lubed up the plug with the bottle beside Tord's bed, the Norwegian relaxed his body.

"If that's what you want, sir."

The words were like honey, sickingly sweet.

Tom knew it was because Tord thought he was getting off easy. It caused his lips to curl up into a cruel smirk as he slipped the plug into Tord's hole, still loose from the amount of attention the spot had received over the last several days.

"No. It's what you think 𝘺𝘰𝘶 want. But I'm more than happy to show you what happens when you're too greedy to listen to what I say."

And just as quickly as Tord's relief had come, it was gone again. The cryptic warning sent chills of adrenaline through his body.

Before he could open his mouth to ask what Tom meant, the other man pulled a small remote from the same pocket he had pulled the plug from.

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before the Brit's thumb came down to press the on button, instantly turning the toy to its highest setting.

A shocked moan ripped it's way through Tord, his entire body tensing up at the assault.

Tom's lips turned into a shit eating grin. 

And blinking ahead at his partner, Tord knew that he had finally figured out what Tom's plan was before he even had to say it.

The words didn't help to reassure the smaller man at all.

"Now, here's what's going to happen. Since all you seem to want is your own pleasure, I'll let you have it. You can have all the orgasms you want. But that plug is staying in for an hour.

You've already cum once. I wonder how many it'll take before you're begging me to make them stop."

Tord's breath hitched, and if he wasn't dreading what he knew would be a very long, and very tortuous hour, he'd be impressed by Tom's ingenious solution and eloquent punishment.

Instead of voicing it, his eyes simply narrowed. Despite his place, he wasn't at all far enough gone to want to stray away from holding himself together.

Willing to keep an element of dignity despite the buzzing against his prostate.

Despite the fact that his face was already starting to flush.

He was confident in the fact that he would be able to last it out, to walk out of this without too much damage simply to make the point that there would be nothing Tom could do to turn him away from the instant gratification that came with being able to orgasm as frequently as he desired.

"And what happens if by after an hour, I'm fine?"

"Then your punishment is over. But I have a good feeling that by the end of it, you're going to be in tears."

Any bratty retort was drowned away as Tom readjusted the control, shifting to a lesser intensity that instead focused on a series of pulsing patterns.

A small body jolted at the shift, a pleased sigh passing through his lips. Every repeat of the pattern allowed Tord to grow accustomed to it, hips rolling down into each pulse that sent a wave of warmth through him.

Tom's eyelids fluttered as he settled on the bed beside Tord. One of his hands moved down to rub his fist over Tord's dick, now back to a semi-full hardness, mindlessly smearing around the precum.

He knew that his touch would push Tord to another orgasm as quickly as he could. The faster he could bring them on, the more rewarding the end result will be

Small, pitched breaths passed through the Norwegian's lips, tiny puffs as he focused on the growing heat in his gut.

Eyelids fluttered shut as Tord relaxed into it, letting go with a soft, "Give me the first one, baby.'

The orgasm washed overcame him, soft and gentle, cum dribbling from him and over Tom's fingers.

The stimulation inside of him allowed him to ride out his second orgasm, already starting to grow tired. Still, he was persistent.

At least, that had been the plan.

It shifted instantly as that post orgasm bliss was turned into displeasure. Tord's eyes remained shut, but squeezed together tighter when Tom's finger moved down to increase the power of the vibrator, now shifting to a constant buzz instead of a pattern.

"Fuck!"

The Norwegian's body jolted, back arching up, trying to squirm away. He was pushed back down, Tom's hand going back to working on Tord's length.

Tord's breath hitched, pain following as his dick was pushed to try and rise up again.

It took nearly five minutes for the discomfort to turn back to pleasure, another ten for his dick to twitch back to life. His lips turned up, hands clenching into fists where they laid above him, utterly useless. 

Nails dug into the flesh of his palms as Tom's hand against him sped up, rubbing in long, solid strokes over the length of Tord's dick. He was well accustomed enough with the Norwegain's body to note the tell of his flared nostrils. The angry and nearly pained look Tord's face took on when he was climbing to his peak, no matter how powerful or intense it would be.

His body didn't care that the onslaught wouldn't stop. And Tord's brain wasn't strong enough to keep from rocking desperately between the vibrations and the warmth of Tom's hand against him, chasing his own pleasure despite knowing what would come.

Tord's third orgasm had him seeing white.

There was no post bliss with the third, prostate and dick much too sensitive to communicate anything other than an itchy discomfort that bordered on being painful.

A distressed whine fell from chapped lips, and his eyes slowly cracked open to meet Tom's.

The other man was grinning down at him, the speed of the vibrator increasing once more.

The response from Tord was a strung out, defeated groan. The foreigner's body moved slowly, and he tried to squirm up and away to decrease the amount of pressure against that special spot inside of him, trying to run away from the overload his senses were experiencing.

Everything felt like an exposed nerve, white and hot, constantly being slammed into. It left the feeling of a restless animal in his chest, buzzing and squirming and trying to break free.

It was all too much for a mind that was drifting away from his body. Even the pain wasn't grounding to the Norwegian. 

All that existed was discomfort and anxiety, the buzzing not quite flitting back to pleasure like it had before.

In front of him, he could see an endless road. White, surrounded by black. This awful feeling stretched into eternity, winding on the neverending path.

It only made his anxiety worse.

Tom's voice barely cut through the existential crisis surrounding all of Tord's senses.

"Hey. Come on, I thought this was what you wanted. Don't be a baby."

The soft whimpers and pitched whines from the squirming man beneath him read as pleasure to the Brit. There was no catch, no knowledge of how bad Tord was reacting to the unplanned hitch in an experimental week.

The flat of Tom's hand pushed Tord back down to his original position, the pressure directly against him once more, pressed snugly against his prostate. It had Tord desperately trying to pull back again.

"An hour. You know that. Stay still and get ready for your next one."

When the power and speed of the vibrator increased as Tom attempted to prove his point, tears finally started to form in Tord's eyes.

As the first tear fell down his cheek, Tord recognized the snap he was experiencing, and a strained, "Rainbow," escaped him, desperate to shy away from a pain and panic he couldn't deal with in this moment. It was seemingly endless, and too much to take compared to the short bursts he had grown used to in other sessions.

As soon as the word was in the air, alarm bells went off in Tom's mind. Motions played on repeat, sped up, as his mind caught up with the small tells he hadn't caught up on.

Rainbow.

The vibrator clicked off as soon as the word dripped from chapping lips, and within the next few moments, Tom was gently removing the plug from within the smaller man.

In the next breath of a moment, Tom had unfastened the belt holding Tord's hands together, blank, black eyes looking down to the mess he had created.

It would have been beautiful, Tord flushed on the bed, soaking in pain and pleasure. Chest heaving, tears of frustration in his eyes. It should have been perfect.

If it hadn't been for the cause, it would have been perfect.

It wasn't pleasure, the way Tord's chest was heaving was more comparable to a caged animal than a man basking in a feeling of bliss.

The sweat on him was cold instead of hot. He had floated too far away, too quickly, with no life saver to pull him back.

𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

Concern and guilt consumed the alcoholic, but it was repressed in favor of something much more important -- in coddling Tord, bringing him back to the surface and righting the wrong he'd inadvertently caused.

"Hey."

Tom's voice was gentle, his movements slow as he repositioned Tord's body, helping him to sit up. 

There was a slight twitch of a silver eye, his lips turned down into a deep frown. At least the tears were stopping, but the look of anger in Tord's eyes unsettled the Brit.

No, not anger. Irritation. Like he'd been slightly inconvenienced. Like he had breached the surface just enough to know he needed comfort, but was also too self aware enough to know how much he despised the need.

Despised how weak he had been. Despised the entire situation.

"I was worried it was guna take more than my voice to --"

"I'm fine."

Tord's voice was shaky as he spoke, and though he tried to sound dismissive, he just sounded small.

Tom pitied him and the eternal conflict he must be facing in the moment.

"Just because you say it doesn't make it true."

"I'm fine."

"We can talk in circles all night. Just let me--"

As Tom's hand moved, Tord jolted, turning his gaze to him. The fire was starting to come back to his eyes.

"Let you what?"

The accusatory tone in Tord's voice only made Tom feel worse. He had finally gained Tord's trust, gained a mutual respect that allowed them to connect like this, and he'd already thrown a wrench into it all.

"Let me get you comfortable. Then you can sleep. Sound good?"

It did. It sounded really good. It sounded like a warm blanket he could cocoon himself in.

Fuck Tom for making him yearn for small comforts he didn't even know he wanted.

Tord knew he was too physically and emotionally exhausted to get to that point himself, to clean himself and wriggle his way into a pair of sweatpants. He'd be more comfortable and content in the long run if Tom was the one doing it for him.

So, with a soft sigh, he offered a non-committal shrug.

"Yeah. It sounds fine."

It was a small victory in Tom's mind. Hopefully when Tord had rested up they could have a conversation about it. But he could tell without even trying that Tord wasn't in the right state of mind to talk about this in any capacity.

At least in any capacity that wouldn't overload Tord entirely. Tom was scared to find out what that would bring.

As docile as the Norwegain could be under his thumb in these scenes, he still knew the real Tord.

The Tord that was always packing heat, full of a fire that could consume everything in its wake. The Tord that was flighty and emotional, sadistic and dangerous.

And that was just him normally.

In a drop or pushed to the peak of fight or flight, there was no telling what he would be capable of.

He didn't want to find out.

Without a doubt, in any situation where they weren't behind closed doors, Tord called the shots.

As Tom stood to leave the room to grab a washcloth, he dwelled on the thought.

Dwelled on the way that for the first time after a scene, Tord wasn't extremely clingy.

Dwelled on the knowledge that he wasn't right to even assume he had any power at all. Dwelled on the knowledge that Tord never lost the power that he clung to so desperately.

Any assumption that he ever had power over Tord was wrong.

Tom's lips drew downward as he wet the cloth in hand, warm water running from the tap.

A twinge of doubt, of uncomfort crept inward.

Jesus Fuck, what had he put himself into?

How fucking blind and stupid could he have been?

He cared about Tord's well being now, but in the same hand, he had signed away part of his soul.

He couldn't even imagine what would go down if Tom slipped away or completely burned the safety net he had weaved for the other man.

"𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙚."

The words were a breath passing through thin lips as he returned to Tord's bedroom.

The Brit looked up as he closed the door behind him, and the sight of Tord, seated in the middle of his bed, legs crossed under him, looking petulant and small, only made the realizations more terrifying.

Who in their right mind could imagine this pouting ball of baby fat and subdued irritation would be capable of anything horrific?

Not with the floatiness still clouding his eyes.

Those eyes were the most disarming feat of all.

How much they could change. From wide and excited, to slanted and dangerous. To horribly empty when no one was looking, like there wasn't a man inside the body at all.

And then there was how they looked now. Disconnected, on stand by, but a touch of thoughtfulness. Like he was lost entirely in whatever his mind decided to conjure up.

Long legs carried Tom to the bed, scooping up a pair of sweats and a red hoodie on his way.

The shift of the bed when Tom joined him drew those silver eyes to trail back to the man of interest.

"I know you're tired. You know you can let go. I got you."

The slight pause made Tom momentarily second guess himself, but it seems the dramatic drop that was personified in swinging emotions had evened out to the needy, post sub Tord he had grown accustomed to.

A wild head of hair moved to rest against a blue clad shoulder, and Tom puffed out a sigh of relief.

"There you are. Thought I lost you."

Tom's voice was soft again, like cotton in Tord's ears. His touch was soft too, and as the warm washcloth moved against sensitive skin, wiping up the mess multiple orgasms had left over the Norwegain's stomach and thighs, his mind grew cloudy and tired.

As Tom cleaned him up, the touch lulled him deeper. And as Tom slowly pulled up the clean pair of sweatpants over his legs, there was an odd twang in Tord's heart.

Tears flooded his eyes again, blurring his vision. They fell silently from his eyes, and Tom frowned at the other man, letting out another sigh, soft and sorrowful as he pulled the hoodie over Tord's head.

After his face popped through, and Tom could identify those tears as empty, simply falling for no reason other than that they could, he forced down what would soon to be another wave of unwarranted stress.

"You're exhausted."

The words only made the tears fall faster, Tord's face scrunching up as he was nudged to lay down. There was a burning pit settled where Tord's stomach should be.

Replaced by frustration, mental exhaustion, physical discomfort, and a messy ball of love and hate that he couldn't place.

That he couldn't focus on, not with the way Tom laid beside him, the heat of his body as it pressed against him.

The comfort of Tom's arm hooking around him to hold him close.

The way the buzzing of his mind stilled at the touch.

How the flow of tears stopped when Tom pressed his lips along the back of his neck, breath hot against his skin.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. You did amazing, using your word when you needed to."

The praise lit a fire in his heart again, and the feeling of it made him want to cry again.

Instead, he curled in on himself, drowning in the gentle reassurances that Tom offered to him.

Getting lost in the low, comforting tone on Tom's voice.

He fell asleep to the soft words being fed to him.

And Tom stayed up that night, thoughts consumed by one thing.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦?

**Author's Note:**

> so 👉👈🥺 kudos n comments appreciated , as well as constructive criticism , y'all keep me humble


End file.
